


Blood looks better on the ground

by leadingrebel



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, based on that second draft of the Pilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leadingrebel/pseuds/leadingrebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the change, Clarke was able to see every bloodstain on him. She gasped and took a breath so abruptly the air left her mouth dry.</p><p>There was a lot of blood.</p><p>Too much blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood looks better on the ground

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the second draft of the Pilot, which was slightly different to the Pilot that was actually aired. So, I liked one of those scenes that never made it to the screen (Clarke's "You're hurt" as she tries to examine Bellamy because his uniform is splattered with blood) and wanted to see what it could have been.

Trees. Sky. Ground.

Green. Blue. Brown.

The colors were so intense Clarke could feel a shiver run down her spine every time she caught a brand new color in her vision.

There was so much to see and she wanted to see everything. She didn’t even know where to start.

But there she was, not being able to look away from the blood covering Bellamy Blake’s guard uniform.

Her fingers tightened her hold on the map in her hands while she tried to focus her gaze on anything else. But wherever she looked, she could feel Finn’s eyes following her every move.

She tried turned her back to him and focused her attention on the map, but that just placed Bellamy more clearly in her peripheral vision.

The fourth time she caught Bellamy making a grimace and holding his left side, Clarke just couldn’t stand it anymore.

Folding the map perhaps a little bit too roughly, she tucked it in her pocket and walked towards him. A few steps before reaching him she actually thought about what she was doing, she had no idea what to say to him, what she could possibly say to convince him.

She saw the blood stains spreading through the back of his uniform jacket and her steps regained their strength.

Bellamy was still talking with Octavia, so she just stood in front of them and looked at him. The look Octavia gave her was untrusting and resented and she took the step necessary so she was touching her brother, standing between Clarke and him. Bellamy just looked at her, a calculated expression and some curiosity.

Octavia looked just about to snap at her when Bellamy turned to his sister.

“Be careful out there, okay?” he said, running a hand trough her hair.

Octavia hesitated, but she lifted on her toes and kissed her brother’s cheek.

“You be careful” she added, eyes fixed on Clarke.

Clarke felt the warning was somehow for her, in a much less gentle tone.

When Octavia walked pass her —closer than necessary, brushing her shoulder with Clarke’s— she stood her ground without showing any reaction and biting her tongue not to turned around and asking what was her damn problem.

Because the truth was, she knew what her problem was. Hers, and everyone else’s.

 _Fucking privileged,_ their eyes screamed.

And it seemed she couldn't really do anything more than ignore it and focus on not dying of thirst. Or because of radiation. Or starving.

Just, not dying.

Bellamy didn’t seem as if he was even going to talk to her so Clarke hoped staring at his side would be enough to be clear on her intentions.

He followed her gaze and dropped the arm around his chest, straightening himself, tightening his jaw, his eyes hiding under a cold expression. He turned around and walked away.

Clarke tightened her fists and breathed in deeply, asking herself if this was even worth it.

She saw Bellamy’s hint of a movement to hold his side again when he had to avoid a little girl — no more than thirteen years old — small braids flying behind her.

She breathed out a sight and followed him.

She was able to reach him in a few steps because the kid was murmuring a shaky apology about bumping into his legs. Clarke could see Bellamy running a hand over the girl’s hair, reassuring her, telling her it was nothing, before she nodded nervously and ran away through more legs.

Clarke’s reflexes took action when Bellamy tried to continue his way, closing a firm hand over his forearm, stopping him.

Bellamy turned to her and stared at the small hand around his arm, then looked at her carefully.

“You can ignore me all you want, but your hand is not going to do anything about your side”

He gave her a look of indignation and shook his arm out of her hold, ready to walk away again.

Clarke felt a sudden wave of rage and buried her fingers in the side she had seen him hold.

She thought he was going to throw up right there, his hand flying over the wound and closing his finger so tight Clarke thought the white knuckles were going to pop out. He turned to her like a hurricane, not even recovered.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!”

Clarke lifted her chin — because he was so close she had no other way to look at him in the eye.

“Let me help”

Her expression was all frown and tightened lips, eyes intense and fixed on him.

Bellamy’s was quickly turning from one of fury to one of pain and Clarke knew he was going to leave again not to show it to her.

“Bellamy”

His name sounded strange the first time she let it slip through her lips — wrapped in her voice, syllables curling on her tongue. She liked the feeling.

Bellamy’s hand tightened on the jacket over his ribs. A grimace on his lips that he tried to hide once he looked around them and caught a few kids staring at them.

Clarke followed his gaze and finally got it.

They were in the middle of a wolf pack without an Alfa that would devour the weak ones.

She took Bellamy’s arm again to avoid his escape and wait for the curious ones to get bored and look away.

“Come with me,” she whispered, when enough people ignored them.

“Where?”

 _Where you can relax, for fuck’s sake_ she wanted to answer.

Instead, she just lifted an eyebrow and looked at him. Then turned around and walked over the dropship, telling herself that if he didn’t follow he could just die from whatever he had in his side for all she cared.

It was in her first step on the dropship’s open gate that she heard the steps behind her.

Once inside, white lights turned the dark red — that she couldn’t almost distinguish under the Sun’s light — into a bright crimson that made the blue of the uniform look pale.

With the change, Clarke was able to see every bloodstain on him. She gasped and took a breath so abruptly the air left her mouth dry.

There was _a lot_ of blood.

 _Too_ much blood.

“The blood’s not mine”

Clarke’s eyes stopped staring at the blood to look for Bellamy’s. His expression was back to a neutral one, perfectly calculated, almost indifferent.

Her mind connected the dots instantly.

He didn’t have a control wristband. He wore the guard’s uniform but he didn’t seem to be an actual guard — if he had been in the Sky Box, he surely wouldn’t have the uniform anymore in the first place. All the fuss before the ship’s launch.

She looked at the gun in his waistband. She looked at the blood on the uniform. She looked at Bellamy.

“Suddenly don’t want to help me anymore, uh?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

Clarke hated the tone of his voice, like she didn’t have the right to worry and he couldn’t stand the fact that she did.

She turned to look for some sort of medical supply.

“Remove your jacket”

She didn’t hear Bellamy move for a while and she kept seeing him in the same position she left him as she looked around the dropship. She went up to the second level, fearing not finding him when she came down, but when she did — whatever she’d been able to find tucked in a piece of rag from the parachute — she found him sitting on a pile of metal plates, jacket aside.

He didn’t seem to have heard her, look fixed on his hands.

When she got close enough, she was able to see his face. Lips tight in a line and stormy eyes, mind far away from there. It seemed the expression of someone lost, she thought.

Clarke made sure to make noise when she left the supplies at his side and Bellamy lifted his head and turned towards her so fast she thought she heard his neck crack.

They looked at each other a few seconds before Bellamy looked away and cleared his throat awkwardly.

Clarke blinked and tried her best to stay in the medical area of her mind.

“I need to see the wound,” she said.

Bellamy took an arm out of his shirt, lifting it to his neck, his injured side exposed. He kept the arm up so she could take a look at it.

Clarke frowned when she saw it. It was nothing she had seen before. Although it’d been a year since she’d last treated any injury at all.

“Shock lashed” Bellamy said, seeing her confusion.

She wanted to ask how it had happened, but Clarke could already guess how and who was responsible for it. So she decided to keep her mouth shut.

An angry purple mark spread over the skin on his ribs, dark lines where the electricity had been more persistent. She was so focus on the contrast of the color on his skin that it took her a moment to notice the threads of blood running down his side and disappearing behind his pants.

“Looks like part of it was your blood, after all”

Bellamy looked down and seemed equally surprised to find blood.

He just shrugged and turned back to look at the opposite wall.

Clarke bit her tongue and lifted her hands to try to find the exact source of the blood.

When her hands touched his skin, Bellamy shivered and breathed in through his teeth, the air whistling.

Clarke didn’t know if she had hurt him, but she felt his skin burning under her fingertips, her hands frozen.

“How many times did they shock lashed you to break the skin even through the clothes?” at first, she expected some kind of answer, but Clarke kept talking while she worked on the wound, not even caring if Bellamy answered or not. “The shock lash is so close to the lung.”

_You could be dead._

_They wanted you dead._

Bellamy just answer with an _hmm_ without opening his mouth.

Clarke bit her tongue again and got her words to at least stay in that medical area she was keeping herself in — even though she had been staying quiet to avoid a monologue about medical logic.

“I’m going to bandage you” she told him as she reached for some kind of cloth she had found in a first aid kit that had turned up to be just an almost empty box; Clarke wasn’t even sure it was actual bandages but just a roll of white straps. “The bandages will hold your ribs most of the time. It’ll do a lot better than your hand.”

Her mind was drowning on indignation — thinking about how the Ark had sent a hundred kids to a radiation soaked planet without even a simple, decent first aid kit — when she had to stop to let Bellamy lift the other side of his shirt for her to cover his whole torso.

She had to get too close to him to wrap the clothes around his back.

She could feel his shoulder brushing her chest and his breathing on her neck, hot and quick. She looked down as she moved the roll from one hand to the other and saw the gun, tucked at the small of his back, this time.

She felt every muscle of Bellamy’s body tense in the extra second she spent staring at the weapon and thought he was going to get up in that exact moment, even with her standing over him.

“Relax,” she said with her voice even — although she wasn’t sure it was anything more than a whisper — as she finished wrapping his chest and tied the bandages on his not injured side tightly. “What are you afraid of?” she sighed, exasperated.

Bellamy flinched and the start of a groan escaped his lips, but he tightened his jaw and Clarke saw a muscle twitched near his neck for a moment.

He turned his head to look at her in the eye.

“I’m not afraid, Princess”

His dark eyes were so intense he seemed to want to show her what he was saying just by staring at her.

Clarke wanted to answer him what would’ve ended up in an argument after a second, but the sound of shy steps at the entrance made both of them turned towards the door.

The red haired girl who had walked into Bellamy’s legs was trying not to hide behind the door’s metal wall.

She looked at Bellamy and bit her lips nervously.

“Are you okay?”

The whisper barely reached them but Clarke saw Bellamy nod and the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You can come here,” Clarke told her in a soft voice while she moved to gather the tools.

That seemed to encourage the girl a little and she walked towards them slowly. Clarke smiled when she looked at her while Bellamy readjusted his shirt.

The conversation between the two of them was a soft murmur Clarke could hear, walking around the dropship to hide the supplies somewhere where she could find them again.

She heard Bellamy asking the girl what was her name and Clarke could almost imagine his fingers over the red braids and the color of his eyes when he spoke.

She didn’t know if Bellamy was going to notice but she stopped at the door just before stepping outside to hear the answer anyway.

“Charlotte”

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [Tumblr](http://leadingrebel.tumblr.com/post/126028146016)


End file.
